Olivia moved from the chair to the examination table. Smoothing her white linen skirt over her thighs, she carried on a pleasant conversation with Dr. Bishop in her head. It became less pleasant when she went from talking about the weather to the reason she was there.
She’d taken the last of her antianxiety medication three days before. Talking to Stanley on Mother’s Day had broken the dam that held back a tidal wave of hurtful emotions and painful memories. Now she was drowning in them. She needed something to help her shut down the crippling panic. An anguished sob broke in her throat at the thought of what Stanley expected from her. She pressed a fist to her mouth to keep the sound from escaping.
In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, she told herself. It took a few moments of controlled breathing for her pulse to slow. Once it did, she felt a little light-headed and weak and stretched out on the examination table.
She held up her phone to check the time, wondering what was keeping Dr. Bishop. It was just a simple prescription renewal. An anxious knot tightened in her chest. What if he wanted to know why she needed the pills? What if she had to tell him about the whole sordid affair? She’d be a babbling basket case if she told him what was actually going on.
Surely he would just give her the prescription with no questions asked. He was a lovely man, kind and warm. He wouldn’t embarrass or shame her or make her feel weak. It wasn’t as if she had a problem. It wasn’t like she visited the clinic every few weeks asking for more. The only time Dr. Bishop had renewed her prescriptions for temazepam and lorazepam was her first week in Harmony Harbor, so of course he wouldn’t question her. She was getting herself worked up for nothing.
She looked up at the buzzing fluorescent light, closing her eyes against the brightness. The sterile, white room reminded her of the hospital, and she began redecorating it in her mind. But as she lay there daydreaming of a calming color scheme—imagining the ceiling painted powder blue and decorated with marshmallow clouds—her breathing slowed, her sleep-deprived body growing heavy and relaxed. The colors melded together, and the buzzing faded to a peaceful hum. She uttered a silent hallelujah just before falling asleep.
“Olivia.”
No, no, no, she inwardly cried at the deep voice intruding on her sleep. “Go away,” she said aloud, her thick tongue garbling the words. She turned on her side.
“Olivia, wake up. You’re at the clinic.”
She blinked open her eyes and stared at the white wall. That voice sounded disturbingly familiar. She glanced over her shoulder and uttered a mortified groan. Finn Gallagher stood behind her wearing a powder-blue button-down shirt that did amazing things to his eyes and was just as flattering to his broad chest. At the sight of the stethoscope around his neck, her absolute worst fears were confirmed, and she quickly flipped onto her back to get up…and slid on the paper and off the table. She would have landed on the floor if Finn hadn’t reached out to grab her. His handsome face contorted with a pained grimace as he bore the burden of her weight.
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just…” She couldn’t believe she’d hurt him again. Obviously, she couldn’t be in the same room with the man. And that was completely fine with her, because the last person she wanted to ask to renew her prescription was Dr. Judgy himself. An image of her spinning his wheelchair on the patio came to mind. She had a lot of nerve criticizing him.
Half hanging on the table and half in his arms, she hurriedly slid her feet to solid ground and stood. Only she hadn’t factored in how close they were standing, and the movement sent him back on his heels.
“Oh no.” She grabbed his stethoscope to keep him from falling backward. It’s possible she was a little overzealous in her effort to save him because the drum came off in her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to break…” She winced as the tubing snapped free and sprang up to slap him in the face.
Finn stared at her and then gave his head a slow shake as if unable to believe what had just happened.
“I know, crazy, right?” Olivia said with a little laugh, trying to make light of it as she handed him the drum.
He didn’t laugh.
Her smile fell. “Can you not move?” She went to grab the wheeled stool for him.
“Stop. Please don’t try and do me any favors, okay? Stay right where you are.” Keeping an eye on her, he moved slowly backward and then reached behind him for the stool. She winced as he carefully lowered himself onto it. He pointed to the chair against the wall. “It might be less dangerous if you sat closer to the floor.”
“Thank you, but I’m here to see Dr. Bishop. So I can wait in the—”
“You’ll be waiting awhile. He’s left for the day.” Finn took a pair of black-framed glasses out of his breast pocket. He put them on while swiveling to the open laptop on the counter beside the small hand sink. After he’d typed something on the keyboard, he glanced at her with his eyebrows raised. “Sherry said you were looking to have a script renewed.”
It was a little disconcerting to see Finn wearing glasses. Of course he looked just as gorgeous, but he looked older and more serious too. Because she was distracted, it took a moment for her to register the hint of censure in his smooth voice. Once she did, she picked up her red purse from the chair. “It’s all right. I’ll come back when Dr. Bishop’s in.”
Finn stretched out his legs, crossed an arm over his chest, and tapped his thumb against his full bottom lip while keeping his probing gaze on her.
She should have left before he opened his mouth. All she had to do was look at his arrogant pose to know what would come out of it.
“It won’t do you any good, Olivia. I’m going to recommend that Dr. Bishop not renew or write you any further scripts for opioids, sleeping pills, or antianxiety meds.”
She stared at him, stunned. That was far worse than what she expected him to say. “You’re making me sound like a drug addict. I’ve never been prescribed opioids.”
He turned the computer screen. “Dr. Bishop prescribed Percocet, an opioid, for you last December.”
“I know what an opioid is. And Dr. Bishop prescribed Percocet for me because I broke my wrist when the carriage house burned down. I’m sure that’s on there as well as the only two other prescriptions he wrote for me. Last September. Months ago. Hardly the pattern of an addict, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would, if I hadn’t seen what I did on Mother’s Day. You were dangerously high. Your behavior was erratic.”
Panic seized the muscles in her chest, and not just because everything he said was true. She was afraid he’d follow through on his threat. She couldn’t keep going on little to no sleep. She had to tell him something to make him understand. “I was upset.”
“We all get upset, Olivia. But we don’t all turn to drugs and booze when we do. That type of behavior indicates there’s a problem, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course it does. But this isn’t an everyday occurrence, and it certainly wasn’t an everyday stressor. I’m an event planner. I deal with problems all the time, and I don’t need to take a pill or have a drink. I don’t,” she said defensively when he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know me. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”
The chiseled angles of his face softened. “I do. I know you lost your son and your husband within a year of each other. I’m sorry, Olivia. I truly am sorry for your loss. But that alone doesn’t mean I’ll turn a blind eye to your problem.”
“I don’t have a problem!” She briefly closed her eyes, embarrassed that she’d lost her temper. “I just need something to help me get through the next couple of weeks. I’m not sleeping and—”
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t. But I’m here and so is Doc Bishop whenever you need to talk. And when you’re ready, I have a list of support groups, and there’s a couple of facilities I can recommend. But, Olivia, you won’t be getting any prescription drugs here or at any other clinic or pharmacy in the area.”
“You’re going to flag me?”
He typed on the keyboard. “No, I’m not going to. I already have.”
“How could you do that to me? Do you know how embarrassing that will be for me to walk into the drugstore knowing that Mr. Carlson thinks I’m an addict?” She sniffed back angry tears and shot to her feet. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask. Why I expected any compassion or kindness from you. You made up your mind about me the first day you met me. You’re a judgmental and sanctimonious ass, Finn Gallagher. And if I never see you again, it will be too soon,” she said, repeating his hurtful words from the brunch back at him as she strode from the room. It took everything she had not to slam the door behind her. She hurried down the hall.
“Olivia,” he called after her, sounding almost conciliatory.
She didn’t often lose her temper and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been rude to someone. But if that’s what it took for Finn Gallagher to see reason, she’d consider using the tactic more often. She swiped a finger under her eyelashes before turning to face him. “What is it?” She kept enough snap in her voice to let him know she wasn’t a pushover.
“Give me your keys,” he said, walking toward her with his hand extended.
The nurse, who’d just come out of the examination room at the end of the hall, glanced their way.
“I’m not giving you my keys,” Olivia hissed.
“Yeah, you are. It’s obvious you haven’t slept in days, Olivia. You look like hell, and you shouldn’t be driving.”
“How dare you! I’m going to talk to Dr. Bishop about this, you, you…”
“Go ahead,” he said, looking almost bored.
He was now close enough that she had to tip her head back to look up at him. He was over six two, and she’d worn flats today. She wished she could look him right in the eye, go toe to toe and nose to nose with him. “I’m going to talk to your grandmother, and your brothers, and…and your father.”
“You do that. Because, Olivia, if you don’t get a handle on your problem, I’m going to be talking to them about you. Now give me your keys.”
She stared at him and then stretched up on her toes, to get as close to nose to nose as she could. The action didn’t have the desired effect. He didn’t look the least bit repentant or intimidated, which was maddening. “The only problem I have is you, you and my husband, who…who…” Her eyes filled with tears, a choking sensation rising up in her throat as she was reminded of why she was here.
She had to leave before she made a complete fool of herself. Finn had already done his level best to besmirch her reputation. She hurriedly unzipped her purse, dug inside to grab her keys, and shoved them at him. “Here.” She spun on her sandals, about to sprint down the hall before the tears started to fall when strong fingers gently closed around her bicep.
“Olivia, if you give me half an hour, I’ll drive you to the manor. Liam or Griff can bring me—”
“No, I can’t stay. I can’t…” She shook her head, unable to go on. Pulling her arm from his hold, she hurried down the hall.
The nurse and receptionist looked up from where they’d been talking at the front desk. Her stomach sank at what appeared to be the disapproving looks they sent her way. Finn’s deep voice had obviously carried. If the press…She couldn’t think about that now. The press was the least of her worries.
She bowed her head and walked quickly through the empty waiting room. She wished someone had warned her that Finn was working at the clinic. She only had herself to blame. After Stanley’s phone call, she’d been trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Knowing that she had last-minute details to firm up on next week’s wedding, a prom party, and bridal shower, no one had questioned her absence.
Given how she was feeling, it was almost a surprise when she walked out of the white Cape Cod clinic to find the weather was just as sunny and warm as when she arrived. If the weather were to mirror her emotions, rain would be slashing down from angry black clouds, forks of jagged lightning spearing the sunbaked ground, thunder so violent it would rock the peaceful coastal community of Harmony Harbor on its moorings.
As she tried to get a grip on those raging emotions, her gaze went to her black Lexus parked under a shade tree. Maybe the exercise and fresh air would do her good. At least she’d worn sensible shoes. She’d walk until she dropped from exhaustion, and hopefully then she’d sleep through the night.
She thought about the upcoming events at the manor and considered cutting her walk short and returning to Greystone to work. But as angry as she was with Finn, she wasn’t enamored with the idea of running into his grandmother. And there was nothing that said she couldn’t work while she walked. She hefted her purse onto her shoulder and pulled her phone out of the side pocket.
Thankfully, she was the list maker of all list makers and had stored several on her phone. Though there was nothing that made her happier than finding a beautiful planner or notebook and filling them too. It calmed her to have a plan, to have her days, weeks, and months mapped out. If her days were full, she wouldn’t have time to remember. Maybe one day she’d get back to filling her planners with her hopes and dreams for the future. She’d learned the hard way that dreams don’t always come true, but she found having a plan gave her a feeling of control.
So that’s what she’d do. She’d feel better once she’d listed all the reasons why Stanley’s plan would fall through. Her stomach plunged to her feet at the thought that she should make a list of what she’d do if he successfully completed his mission. She didn’t need a list. She already knew she couldn’t do what he expected her to.
Which she’d told him when he’d called her from the airport. He’d been on his way to Kenya. It was above and beyond what most lawyers would do for a client and friend, especially a deceased one. But Stanley had been more than just Nathan’s friend; he’d taken on the role of his big brother. Olivia still hadn’t found a way to forgive Stanley for keeping her in the dark about her husband’s secret life.
“Ma’am!” someone called out at the same time a car door opened in front of her and clipped her on the hip. Olivia sucked in a pained gasp but forced a smile and waved off the man’s apologies. It wasn’t his fault she was distracted. And obviously working on her phone while walking along the twisty, narrow streets wasn’t ideal either.
She considered heading for Main Street, but she knew too many of the shop owners and wasn’t up for friendly chitchat, so she decided it would be safer to walk along the harbor. It was close to the dinner hour on a weekday; she wouldn’t have to battle any crowds on the waterfront because the brightly painted fishermen’s shacks that housed local artisans didn’t open until mid-June, when tourist season was well under way.
She walked on the sidewalk down the hill, passing by Colonials, Cape Cods, and Victorians that had once belonged to merchants and sea captains. Harmony Harbor had been founded in the early seventeenth century by William Gallagher and was steeped in maritime history. Plaques commemorating the history of the homes and their prominent owners were displayed on stone and wrought-iron fences partially hidden by bridal wreath spirea with their tiny white blossoms and arching branches. Rhododendrons showed off their lush clumps of shocking pink blossoms.
Olivia loved the picturesque town with its family-owned boutiques, art galleries, and gift shops. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere and the strong sense of community had been missing from her world in Boston. Somehow she fit here. She felt safe and protected. But Finn with his threats and accusations had managed to color her perception of the small town she loved.
Maybe she was being unfair laying the blame solely at his feet. So much had happened in such a short time that it was no wonder she felt unhinged. Revealing her true identity was difficult enough, but then for Stanley to reveal Nathan’s last request…
A horn beeped, alerting her to the fact that she’d veered into the street. She lifted a hand in apology and got back on the sidewalk. As she got closer to the harbor, she heard the low bleat of the fishing boats’ horns announcing their return.
She was used to the briny smell of the ocean by now, but it was sharper here by the docks. Walking along the paved path past the marine blue, citrus yellow, and fire-engine-red fisherman shacks, she spotted an empty wooden bench on the dock and headed toward it.
She noticed an older man fishing, a dark-haired man in a gray hoodie leaning against the rail as she took a seat on the bench. The man’s gaze briefly landed on her and then moved on as he appeared to scan the area. He straightened when two men approached. They glanced in her direction, and she bowed her head. She may have led a sheltered life but it was obvious to her what was going on. The man in the hoodie was selling drugs.
There wasn’t a huge issue with drugs in Harmony Harbor, but there had been problems in nearby Bridgeport. No matter how desperate she was for sleep and to get her nerves under control, Olivia would never stoop so low as to buy street drugs. Or so she’d thought until moments later when her phone pinged with an incoming text from Stanley.